In lamenting the imperfections of early America, liberals overlook the
enormous toll our founders paid for our independence. In listening to
liberals, one might guess freedom popped up like toast one blissful morning
while colonists were reading their New York Times, rather than torn from
the hold of the most powerful country on earth.

When the British marched on Lexington in April of 1775, there had been
much talk about man's rights and the King's oppressions, and it rallied
a dispirited country to the cause of freedom. But with the British determined
to crush the rebellion, our inalienable rights needed someone willing
to fight for them on the battlefield.

Gilbert Stuart's George Washington (1796).
Click on picture for larger version (132K)

Fortunately for all of us, we had such a man in George Washington. A
month after Lexington, colonial leaders met in Philadelphia and unanimously
picked Washington, then 43, to lead a collection of zealous farmers against
the invincible British. If "opportunity" is a polite word for
a dirty job, how many of us would relish Washington's opportunity?

But he accepted his commission graciously, refusing any pay except expenses,
and vowed to "exert every power" he possessed in the service
of Congress "and for support of the glorious cause" of freedom.
[1]

Still, colonial leaders seemed more fearful of Washington's success than
his almost certain defeat. If he beat the British, what would stop him
from taking over the government and establishing an American monarchy?

"[W]hen we assumed the soldier we did not lay aside the citizen,"
he told a delegation in New York while en route to Boston, trying to soothe
their apprehensions. The army, he said, would return to their private
lives when the war was over. [2] At Cambridge he repeated his theme of
citizen soldiers when he told the troops they were defending freedom "against
violence actually offered," and they would lay down their arms when
the threat of aggression was removed, "but not before." [3]

In summer of 1776 the British decided to evacuate Boston and set up operations
in New York City, from which they could strategically snuff the uprising.
While the British waited for reinforcements, Washington brought his main
army to New York City to defend it.

Before hostilities broke out, the British made a mock gesture at peace.
They sent a letter to Washington addressed to "George Washington,
Esq." Washington refused to receive it, because of the publicly degrading
manner in which it was addressed.

So the British tried again, this time with a letter carried by Adjutant
General Patterson and addressed to "George Washington, &c.,&c.,
&c." Patterson said he hoped the et ceteras would remove any
obstacles to communications. Washington said they didn't, not remotely,
whereupon Patterson said the British were willing to offer pardons. "For
what?" Washington demanded, saying they had committed no faults and
needed no pardons. [4]

The British put aside their insolence and attacked the Americans in August
of 1776, easily outclassing them. American casualties were heavy, confusion
was rampant, and militia especially were abandoning the ranks in large
numbers. Finding it more prudent to fight another day, Washington removed
his troops from New York and retreated through New Jersey, with the British
giving chase and some of his countrymen hurling ridicule.

By early December the American forces had fled to the Delaware River,
crossing into Pennsylvania near Newtown. With winter setting in, the British
decided to quarter in various towns and outposts on the Jersey side of
the Delaware.

To British leaders like Sir William Howe and Lord Cornwallis, the conflict
had been more of a hunt than a war. They would soon bag their quarry,
but they were in no hurry. Howe decided to return to New York for an affair
with the wife of his commissary of prisoners, Joshua Loring. [5] In his
absence, Howe's troops, acting against his stated orders, embarked on
a terror campaign against New Jersey residents.

The situation was grim for the American cause. Washington's army had
been driven ignominiously from New York, and great numbers of Americans
were accepting Howe's offer of a pardon. His troops were decimated by
disease and desertion. The ones remaining were tattered and poorly fed.
He pleaded to Congress for clothing, saying that some were "entirely
naked and most so thinly clad as to be unfit for service." [6] Other
than some militia from Philadelphia, his appeals for troops from Jersey
and Pennsylvania yielded nothing.

By December 20th, Washington estimated his force at 7,600, about half
that of the British. But enlistments would end on December 31 for most
of his men, leaving him with no more than 1,400 troops. The British knew
about the expirations and had little doubt the American well would shortly
run dry.

Realizing the stakes, the man liberals today no longer honor decided
on a bold move. He devised a plan to surprise the Hessian mercenaries
at Trenton on the morning after Christmas, hoping to catch them sleeping
from the previous night's revelry. A victory would recharge the troops
and the American people, and would help him raise the army he needed.

Around 6:00 p.m. on Christmas Day, a force of 2,400 men began crossing
the Delaware at McKonkey's Ferry, north of Trenton. One of Washington's
aides recorded in his journal: "It is fearfully cold and raw and
a snowstorm is setting in. The wind is northeast and beats in the faces
of the men. It will be a terrible night for the soldiers who have no shoes.
Some of them have tied old rags around their feet; others are barefoot,
but I have not heard a man complain." [7]

By 3:00 a.m. the troops were on the Jersey side and the artillery was
now on its way over. Washington stood on the bank, wrapped in a cloak,
superintending the landings. An hour later they began their eight-mile
hike to Trenton in two columns by different routes, while sleet pelted
them.

Washington "pounced upon the Hessians like an eagle upon a hen,"
and the enemy surrendered after a short fight. [8] He took his troops
back to Pennsylvania, let them recover, then crossed over to Trenton again
on the night of December 30th, with plans to attack the British at Princeton.
The following day, when enlistments were up, he rode before his troops
on horseback and pleaded with them to stay a month longer. He commended
their bravery and told them "the present is emphatically the crisis
which is to decide our destiny." [9]

He managed to persuade some of his troops to stay for another six weeks,
and with the financial aid of Robert Morris, promised them a bonus of
$10 in gold coin for volunteering.

Meanwhile, the rebel victory had panicked the British. Cornwallis hastily
gathered his men from across New Jersey and brought them to Trenton to
confront Washington on January 2, 1777. Believing he had the Americans
trapped, Cornwallis held off attacking while his exhausted troops recovered.
As night fell, the two armies faced each other, separated only by a small
creek.

Washington had no desire to challenge Cornwallis's superior numbers.
Leaving campfires burning to deceive the British, Washington slipped away
and headed to Princeton. At daybreak, as he reached the outskirts of Princeton,
he engaged British troops that were leaving to assist at Trenton. The
Americans fought well at first, but began to scatter when more redcoats
arrived.

Washington then rode into the middle of the fray, between the advancing
enemy and his retreating troops, hollering at his men to come back. Moved
by his bravery, they returned and drove the British back into town, where
for the next hour some of the most savage fighting in the war took place,
with Washington right in the thick of it. It ended in a rout for the Americans.

A young American officer wrote to his wife: "I shall never forget
what I felt in Princeton on [Washington's] account, when I saw him brave
all the dangers of the field and his important life hanging as it were
by a single hair with a thousand deaths flying around him. Believe me,
I thought not of myself." [10]

So brilliant was Washington's maneuver at Trenton that when the British
heard the reports of artillery from Princeton, they believed it to be
thunder, even though it was the dead of winter. The quarry the British
had relished hunting had proved to be a fox.

The victories in New Jersey kept the struggle going and helped Washington
get some of the support he needed. Still ahead of him was Valley Forge,
Benedict Arnold, and the long march to Yorktown.

When victory was finally secured, Americans everywhere exulted him and
many thought he should be king. But he kept his promise and retired his
commission, saying "I didn't fight George III to become George I."
[11]

Apparently, Washington wasn't sophisticated enough to parse his original
promise into a new meaning, by pontificating on what the meaning of "is"
is. He simply believed in freedom, risked his life for it, and won, making
liberty as a birthright a reality. While he didn't secure freedom for
all men, he secured the foundations of a system in which all men could
be free.

The calendar hanging over my desk notes Lincoln's birthday, Ash Wednesday,
and Valentine's Day -- along with the federally-invented President's Day
-- as significant dates for February. The importance of February 22 is
nowhere mentioned, and that's a disgrace.

George Smith is full-time freelance writer with a special interest
in liberty issues and screenwriting. His articles have appeared on Ether
Zone, and in the Gwinnett Daily Post, Writer's Yearbook, Creative Loafing,
and Goal Magazine. He has a web site for screenwriters and other writers
at http://personal.atl.bellsouth.net/atl/g/f/gfs543/